


A Little More Time

by Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel is a Sweetheart, Castiel is a Winchester, Cute, Eavesdropping, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Just gross fluff really, Lonely Castiel, Sneaking Around, Team Free Will, The Winchester Gospels, Witch Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-13 00:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: Cas tells stories to Sam’s little herb garden at night, thinking the boys are asleep and won’t hear him.





	A Little More Time

It was about time Sam had gotten around to this. Over the last year, he’d started using more and more spell work in hunts, and most spells required herbs. The bunker was enormous, so about a week ago he’d claimed one corner of the big main room for an indoor herb garden. Common herbs were easy enough to come by, but things like Devil’s Shoestring and Goldthread were not. Sam had planted ten rows, three pots per row, for a total of thirty different herbs.

Dean was pretty indifferent to the little garden (mostly he just wanted to be sure Sam wasn’t tinkering with any of the more dangerous types of witchcraft) but Castiel seemed to love the idea. He’d watched Sam plant the seeds, and had checked on the little garden each morning with Sam when he went to water it. This morning the seeds had finally sprouted, and the angel was looking at the tiny green leaves poking out of the soil so fondly that Sam almost didn’t notice the problem with the garden. 

“One still hasn’t come up,” he noted, looking at the single pot without little leaves in it. The empty circle of soil looked kind of sad beside the rest of the garden.

Castiel, who was kneeling looking at the rest of the plants, turned and leaned to look at the empty pot, too.

“Do they all grow at the same speed?”

“The varieties I planted are all supposed to sprout in a week or less,” Sam explained, directing a thoughtful frown at the empty pot. Shrugging, he moved the watering can over and watered it anyway. “It could just be a late bloomer.”

“What will you do if it doesn’t sprout tomorrow?” Cas seemed concerned for the absent plant. With how fond he already seemed of the rest of the garden, Sam felt a little bad about his plans to someday cut them all up, mash them, and use them in spell work. He’d worry about that later, though.

“I’ll give it a few days,” he assured the angel, smiling. “If it doesn’t come up after that, the seed’s probably no good. I’ll throw it out if it doesn’t grow.”

“I see.”

Cas looked down at the little empty pot thoughtfully, but said no more about it.  


* * *

  
Dean yawned and checked the glowing numbers on his watch as he stepped out of the bathroom. 2:45 am. The bunker had been completely silent on his way down the hall from his bedroom to the bathroom, and it was huge and kind of creepy this time of night. Cas usually read books this late, so he was probably in the library. As the hunter made his way back toward his room, though, he heard the angel’s voice speaking softly from somewhere out in the big main room.

“…Was called David. He was not a big man, but he was brave.” Cas was speaking softly and happily, the kind of voice used to read stories to little kids. Dean recognized it as the voice he’d read Sam stories with when his brother was only four or five and it was just the two of them in some motel room for days at a time. Sammy had already loved books and stories even back then. 

Dean peeked around the corner and realized that the angel was sitting over on the floor beside Sam’s little garden. He held the one pot that had no leaves sprouting from it on his lap, and was talking to it.

“David challenged Goliath to a battle,” Cas continued, hugging the little pot to his side and looking out over the rest of the garden. “And instead of trying to be stronger than the giant — because no-one there was stronger than Goliath, especially not little David — he was smart and fought him with a sling and stones. Goliath charged, and David flung a stone at him — and it hit him square in the forehead, and he died on the spot.” 

He paused, tilting his head like he was trying to recall the details. Dean really had to wonder if Cas had been around to see the whole David and Goliath thing play out. He’d mentioned seeing the Tower of Babel once.

“…David wasn’t as graceful about winning as the Bible says, though,” the angel informed the little plants and the empty pot of dirt drolly. “If I remember correctly, he hopped up and down on Goliath’s chest and said some rather creative insults about his mother.”

Dean had to smother a chuckle at that. He could’ve just gone out there and talked to Cas, but it felt wrong to disturb the peaceful little scene of the angel in the tiny garden. Clearly Cas thought the empty pot would sprout, or he wouldn’t be addressing it like he did the plants. Dean slipped away back to his room, making a mental note to talk to Sam about this later.  


* * *

  
The next morning, Sam noted as he watered the garden that the last pot still hadn’t sprouted. He also noted that Castiel lingered near it longer than the others, and patted it like encouragement would somehow help.

“Cas,” he began, taking a deep breath. “I know you want that one to grow, but I think the seed was dead. It should’ve come up by now.”

“Give it another day, Sam,” the angel insisted. “It just needs more time than the others.”

Sam looked at the little pot. It honestly just looked like dirt, and there wasn’t much point in watering dirt. Cas seemed so hopeful that he felt bad for being the realistic one in this situation.

“Time won’t help if it’s dead, Cas.” 

“Jeez, Sammy, let him have this,” Dean interrupted, stepping over near the garden with his cup of coffee. He shrugged, adding, “It’s not like we don’t have space in here for one more pot, right?”

Sam looked at him dubiously. Dean had shown zero interest in the garden from day one — zero. How come he cared now? Cas looked so grateful that Dean was also in favor of keeping the little pot of dirt that he relented, though, added some water to it along with the rest. 

“Fine, I’ll keep watering it,” he told the two of them, sighing. “Don’t get your hopes up though, Cas. It probably won’t grow.” Maybe the Goldthread seed was just dead. The plant was supposed to be extinct, and he’d acquired the seeds through some very dubious means in the first place…

Why did Dean suddenly care about any part of this garden? Now it was going to bother him. Cas and his brother were up to something, but what?  


* * *

  
Dean yawned, checking his watch again. 2:30 am. Cas hadn’t been talking when he walked by last night, so he’d probably shown up at about 2:40, maybe. Who knew if he even kept track of the time, though? Maybe he’d only sat out there last night, and wouldn’t be there at all tonight. Deciding to find out, Dean crept as quietly as he could out into the hallway. Leaning against the edge of the door, he peeked into the main room.

Castiel’s voice reached him just before he sighted the angel sitting with the little garden, holding the empty pot of soil as he had the night before. He was making a stern face, waving his free hand over his head. 

“…And the angel called down to Abraham to stop! God was only testing him, and didn’t want Isaac to be sacrificed. Sacrificing children is bad,” he added to the little sprouts mildly. “That was the entire point, in fact. It seems like most humans missed that point, though, because they don’t really like this story.”

He reached over and brushed his palm across the tiny leaves in the pots, sighing.

“Now most don’t really like angels, either.”

Dean quietly slipped away back to his room, wondering what to think. It was easy to forget how old Cas was, and how much he had seen. It must be very strange to go from the days when people accepted an angel as an angel without question to now. Did Cas miss being around other angels? He wasn’t sure how to help with that.  


* * *

  
“It’s not growing,” Sam told Dean and Cas, looking at the little pot of dirt at the corner of the garden. The other plants had sprouted more leaves and were almost two inches tall now. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was headed already, though.

“Please water it, Sam,” Cas said, blue eyes hopeful. Dean glanced at him, then to Sam with a serious nod.

“Yeah, give it a chance. I bet there’ll be something growing in there tomorrow morning.” 

He seemed pretty invested, Sam thought as he watered the little pot of soil. Dean could have easily been smiling and jokingly agreeing with Cas, but he wasn’t — he looked like he actually cared about this, too. Sam halfway expected some plastic monster to be “growing” in the pot in the morning, but he didn’t suggest they throw the empty pot out again. He knew better at this point.  


* * *

  
“Sam! Hey, wake up!” Dean shook his brother’s shoulder, glancing back at the door left open a few inches. Hopefully Cas was busy talking to the garden and didn’t hear him.

His brother sat up in bed, squinting tiredly at him and rubbing his forehead.

“What?” He checked his watch and groaned when he realized it was 2:30 in the morning. “Ugh…it’s not even three, Dean!”

“Shh!” Dean shushed him, frowning. He kept his own voice at a whisper. “Be QUIET and c’mon, I wanna show you something.”

Judging by his suspicious look, Sam thought he was about to be pranked or something. Still, he sighed heavily and crawled out of bed, following his brother silently out into the hallway.

They were halfway to the bathroom when Castiel’s voice drifted to them, and Sam glanced quickly at Dean, raising his eyebrows. Dean nodded, leaning against the wall by the door and peeking inside. Cas sat on the floor beside the garden, the little pot of dirt held hugged against his side. Sam peeked out, too, blinking.

“…And Dean had never seen an angel, and didn’t believe that he was one,” Cas was telling the little sprouts fondly. “But he knew that someone had raised him from Hell, and on his shoulder was a mark where he had been gripped tight and raised from perdition. I was that angel.”

Sam leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the door from Dean, brushing his hair back from his face with a hand and frowning. Dean had to admit, he was surprised, too. Cas had been telling the garden stories from the Bible up until now. But, then, he’d also said that their lives would someday become gospel, too. The Winchester gospel. Apparently Cas considered it gospel enough already. 

“…Sam had demon blood, but also the kindest heart,” their friend was telling the plants now, “and the angel could tell. I was that angel, too.”

Sam bit his lip, glancing over at his brother. Dean looked back, brows furrowing sadly. He hoped it was obvious now why the little plant that wouldn’t sprout was important to keep. Cas didn’t sleep, and he was sitting in the dark every time they did. It must be lonely. Why hadn’t that occurred to them sooner?

It was quiet out in the room, he realized. Why wasn’t Cas talking? Did he tell one story per night and then leave? Dean hadn’t ever stayed long enough to find out. Exchanging a glance with Sam, he and his brother both peered out into the room to see what their friend was doing.

Cas was sitting there looking down at the empty pot of soil. He’d balanced it on his knee and cupped both hands over the top, like he was trying to keep it warm. Was there a tiny blue glow from between his fingers, or was Dean imagining it?

“I thought that I was here to teach Sam and Dean about things they didn’t understand,” the angel murmured, addressing the rest of the garden as well as the little pot he held. “But it was me — I’m the one who didn’t understand yet. I thought that what I had in Heaven was a family, but I only learned what family is when I met Sam and Dean.” He smiled and placed the still-empty pot of soil gently back into the rows with the others. “I just needed a little time, too.”  


* * *

  
Sam stared up at the ceiling. He’d laid there long enough that his eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, but he couldn’t fall back asleep. After he and Dean had slipped away from Cas — who was talking to his garden like the plants were ducklings or kittens or something — Sam couldn’t stop thinking about what the angel had said about them. 

Cas was an ancient, extremely powerful creature. He was more humble than most humans would be in his situation, though, as their slightly awkward roommate who spent most of his time reading. Cas didn’t eat or sleep, but occasionally he’d join them for a cup of coffee in the morning. Other than coffee, though, and working on hunts together, the angel didn’t spend that much time with them. Rather, they didn’t spend much time with him. It bothered Sam now that he realized it.

Cas was alone so much of the time. He rarely ever saw other angels anymore, and never imposed any of his own wishes on Sam or Dean, not even asking to watch a particular movie or for them to go anywhere with him. Cas loved parks and people watching — they should go to the park with him, something. Anything. He deserved better.

Resolving to do more to include the angel in his daily routine, Sam closed his eyes and started to fall asleep at last. He hoped Dean was thinking about all of this, too.  


* * *

  
“Oh…thank you, Sam.” Castiel accepted the mug of coffee the younger brother offered him when he ventured into the kitchen, seeming surprised. Dean waved at him from the table, where he’d already taken a seat with his own coffee. 

Cas smiled as he sat down beside the brunette, glancing between him and Sam. He seemed particularly happy this morning. Dean halfway thought maybe he’d noticed them eavesdropping the night before.

“So, I have an announcement to make.” Sam stepped over near the table, too, sitting down his own mug of coffee. He stepped over to the garden. When he turned back, he was holding a pot with the tiniest green leaves poking out of the soil. “You guys officially have the right to tell me ‘I told you so’ — the last pot sprouted overnight.” 

Dean could tell from Cas’s warm smile that he’d already known that, but he had let Sam go discover it for himself. 

“Awesome,” he said, toasting Cas with his coffee mug. “Just needed a little extra time and TLC, right Cas?”

The angel toasted him back happily. 

“Yes…what’s TLC?”

“Tender loving care,” Sam supplied, placing the little sprout back in the garden with the others. He returned to the table, taking a seat and sipping his coffee. Cas blinked at that, then smiled again. He was probably thinking of his nights telling the little plants stories. “Speaking of…” Sam glanced over at Dean, giving him a meaningful look. “We’ve all been pretty focused on work stuff lately. We should drive somewhere just for fun.”

“Like a road trip?” Dean raised an eyebrow. Practically every day was a road trip with them…

“Like driving to the park,” Sam clarified, again shooting him that pointed stare. “We could have a picnic, people watch, maybe teach Cas how to play badminton.”

Dean couldn’t help a snort at that last one.

“YOU can teach him how to play badminton. You must’ve learned that one in college,” he teased. Still, he got the idea. Cas liked parks. Cas liked people watching. He turned to the angel, who looked surprised at the direction of the conversation, and smiled. “Sounds like fun. When?”

“Why not today?” Sam smiled at Cas, too. “I know we’re not working. Are you busy today, Cas?”

“Yes,” the angel replied promptly, getting to his feet. Sam and Dean both opened their mouths to ask what he was talking about when he smiled at them and added, “With a picnic. And people watching. And learning how to play badminton. Let’s go.”

And so the Winchester gospel got one more page, and it was a light-hearted one for once.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! The idea for this hit me while I was procrastinating doing something else with a deadline (that's how creativity seems to work. Aiyee.) and I only got to write it from the outline about a week later. I do so love Team Free Will fluff, and people appreciating Cas for the sweet cinnamon roll he is (well, when not smiting demons and such) will never get old. <3


End file.
